


Hear Me Now

by orphan_account, sassyasscas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 11,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1858257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassyasscas/pseuds/sassyasscas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He wracked his brains for the right words to say, gently parting his lips as if to speak, but shutting them quickly, deciding whatever he was going to say was not right. The man who sat beside him had no knowledge of the creatures and demons who slipped from their world to ours with such ease. He knew Dean as Agent Brown, the man with a gun and real badge, who took down serial killers and murderers alike with his intellectual prowess and years of training. What Cas had in mind was a character who was the good guy. The agent, the officer, the man who kept people safe from other people, with slightly different motives than the rest of us.</p><p>But he wasn't Agent Brown, he was Dean Winchester. And he fought a different breed of killer, one he hoped Cas might never find the truth about.<br/>"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chasms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasms/gifts).



> I would like to provide a huge thankyou to my best friend and fic buddy, Molly (kid) for providing me with the prompt for this fic, as well as ideas and much needed encouragement. Love you, lady. Please enjoy the fanfiction, if you enjoyed it, comment to let us know! Constructive feedback is welcomed. Thank you for reading, and once again, enjoy!

It was late at night when the soft purr of a specific black impala rolled around. It pulled into a tiny town where nine people had been brutally murdered, and strangely enough, drained of their blood. A statuesque man with short, brown hair stepped out of the car as he pulled up to the curb. He was dressed sharply, and carried himself in an authoritative way. Swiftly he flashed a shining gold badge to a few officers standing around, who were surprised to see a man of his ranking pulling into such a strange murder scene. From his jacket pocket he pulled a pair of latex gloves out and stepped inside the house, his eyes darting immediately to the body of a man, his clothing torn and his skin pale and waxen. 

The man crinkled his nose at the sight and smell of such a thing, as his gaze shifted to the man's neck. Two large marks in it brought a few names to his head. Vamp, or Vetala? The voice in his mind asked as his brow furrowed. The body's pale complexion revealed that it had been completely drained of blood. He pressed two fingers to the man's arm and his face contorted in a confused way. After a moment of thinking and mumbling under his breath, he decided upon one word.

"Vetala."

He pulled out a camera phone and snapped a few photos before being escorted to the only witness. He walked swiftly out to the yellow tape and lifted it, sliding under. A small smile played on his lips as he approached the young man who was presumably the only witness. 

He wore a long tan trench coat that suited him well, and underneath was a mussed up old t-shirt and pair of black jeans. It wasn't that he wasn't a clean man, it merely seemed that he did not care about appearances. His face was trimmed neatly, for the most part, give or take the odd missed patch where his facial hair had grown longer than the rest. With dark hair that was ruffled and out of place, quite like the shirt he wore, and striking blue eyes that stared off into the distance, unmoving and silent. 

"My name's Agent Brown, do you mind if I ask you a few questions, man?" The tall man asked, pulling out a notepad, trying to shake himself from those cold blue eyes that didn't meet his. 

"Not at all, sir." The man muttered, seemingly spacey. He rocked back and forth on his heels nervously, one hand on the police car to steady himself. 

"What was your name?" Agent Brown asked.

"Novak. Castiel Novak." The shorter man replied. 

"And what exactly did you see, Mr. Novak?"

"Well," Castiel began, laughing slightly. "Not much. I'm blind, sir."

Agent Brown's face turned red, feelings of embarrassment and guilt washing over him. Though he was certainly glad that Castiel could not see him. After clearing his throat, Agent Brown settled his hand back on the notepad. 

"Ah, okay then. Did you...hear anything?" He asked awkwardly, not completely sure of how he should go about it. 

"Not really. Just the door opening, but I thought it was my brother leaving. I was in my room when it happened." His voiced crackled a little, his emotions obviously getting the better of him. 

"I'm just not sure why they didn't take me." He choked, and Agent Brown awkwardly patted his shoulder. 

"Well, Mr. Novak, I've got to head back and...check on some files. But if you need anything, give me a call. He scribbled out a line of numbers on the pad and tore off a piece of paper, grabbing Castiel's hand and placing in in his palm.

"I know what it's like to lose someone close, Castiel." He sighed, pulling his hand away, but leaving the paper. 

Agent Brown returned to his sleek black car, running his weathered hands across the top. Opening the door and sliding in, he let out a long breath and ran his hands over his face. It was difficult to lose Sam, and seeing the poor man who had just lost his own brother brought back feelings from the pit of his stomach. He sped off to the nearest seedy motel where he could work in peace. 

Upon his arrival, he set up a laptop and transferred the photos from his phone. After hours of research and digging, he decided that the culprit was indeed a single Vetala.


	2. Chapter Two

He woke to the eerie silence of the motel room, light poured through the dusty curtains. Specs of dust floated effortlessly through beams, calming the nervous man as he ran a hand through his disheveled brown hair.

After pulling on a new pair of black slacks, and buttoning up another plain white shirt, he pulled the fake badge from his jacket pocket. Guilt enclosed his thoughts, he never had a problem lying to the officers, to family, and to witnesses, but he felt small pangs of worry when he lied to the man with the black, messy hair. Was it because he was blind? He tried not to think like that, pity wasn't really his thing. But there was something about the softness in Castiel's nature that struck a cord within his heart.

A short walk to the mirror left him standing lazily, his shoulders hunched forward, staring back at his own tired face. 

He drew a sharp breath inwards. "Why do you do this to yourself, Dean?" He spoke softly. 

Dean. 

It was the first time he had heard his actual name said aloud in months. The last person to speak it was in fact his brother, Sam. The life Dean lived left a trail of fake names and jobs in the wind. It left faces and friends behind, and left no room for Dean to even consider a relationship.

Running both weathered hands down his face, and resting the in the crook of his neck, Dean made his way out the door of the hotel room. He climbed into the Impala and was greeted by her sweet purr after being started. The sounds filled him with a safe familiarity as he recalled the memories he had made with Sam, driving from place to place in their father

He was about to pull out of the parking lot when his cellphone gave a quiet ring. He removed it from his jacket pocket and swiped to answer. 

"H-hello?" The voice was rough and tired, but seemingly filled with hope. Dean could hear him taking heavy breaths on the other end of the phone. 

"Yes, is this Mr. Novak?" He asked, almost certain it was the trenchcoated man he had met last night. 

" It is, Detective. Would you be able to meet me at the Greystone hotel as soon as you can? I think I've been able to recall some information that may be of use to you. " He spoke surely and confidently, but a sudden realization came to Dean's mind.

"Uhm, Mr. Novak?"

"Castiel." The man shot back, not aggressively, just in a way that was a matter-of-fact. Merely a gentle reminder. 

"Castiel, yes...How exactly did you get to phoning me?" He questioned, with a waivering voice. He knew for a fact he could not have taken any old cell phone and called the fake agent right away. Dean then came to and remembered that he had in fact given the blind man a slip of paper with his number on it. How did he expect Castiel to call him? After mentally scolding himself for the social faux-pas, he listened closely as Mr. Novak spoke. 

"Realx, Agent." Castiel chortled, almost amused by the ma's nervousness. He must be used to the mistakes. Dean thought.

"I got one of the men at the station to put you on the line. Anyways," He breathed out quietly. 

"I'll meet you at the hotel." He clicked off, and Dean quickly followed by hanging up. Grabbing a small silver flask and placing it in his smooth jacket pocket, Dean headed out the door.

He ran his hands down the length of the Impala, cooing ever so softly to it, clinging to it's memories with every fibre of his being. He understood that it was an unhealthy for him to be so emotional and possessive of his car, but he dismissed it as pride. 

A short drive to the Greystone motel left Dean feeling worse than he had during the morning, but a small piece of him felt lighter when visiting the strange, blind man. 

"Ahh, agent! " Castiel called from a few spaces over. He was sitting on the tailgate of a local policeman's truck. Dean inferred to himself that Castiel had received a ride from one of the men at the station. 

"Yes, Mr. Novak. Let's get right to it, then. "


	3. Chapter Three

"You said you recalled something from  
the scene of the incident?" Dean spoke, trying his hardest to sound convincing.

"That's just it, Agent, I don't recall much. It was quiet. Too quiet for my brother." He took in a little breathe, and Dean questioned whether or not he should interject to comfort Castiel.

"I'm blind, and Gabe always made sure I knew he was there. If he fell, I knew. God, I knew if he stubbed his toe, or cut himself shaving. Whoever did this... terrible thing, was surely inhuman." He said softly. Dean coughed at the mention of something inhuman. Was this man onto him? Surely not, nobody ever caught on, let alone someone who lacked the ability to see. 

"Well, I don't think--" his words trailed off, and he watched Castiel cock his head leftwards. 

"Anyways," Castiel continued, breaking the small silence that separated the two men." I think that I should come along with you in your investigation." 

Laughing softly, in an almost sad tone, Dean shook his head. " No, Mr. Novak, I can't have you put in harm's way. They'll have my ass back at HQ. " 

The messy-haired man pursed his lips and behind a pair of dark sunglasses his eyebrows narrowed in annoyance, or rather, disappointment. 

" Alright, I'll stay back. "

"Mr. Novak. " He shot back, silencing Castiel for only a brief moment before he began again.

" Are you worried about me seeing something that might damage me, Agent? " He asked, with almost a hint of sarcasm in his tone. 

"No- that's-" he spoke, before being interrupted by Castiel's objections.

" I'd be of use to your investigation, Agent. I may be blind, but I'm not stupid. Besides, you haven't got a partner, have you? " He spat, shuffling about where he sat. 

The words he spoke struck something within Dean that reminded him of his brother. 

"No, my partner...passed on." He was in no position to claim his brother dead, but Dean wasn't completely sure, and he felt this the best way to explain this to Castiel. 

"Well, there you have it. " His voice rang out in a cold fashion. Dean was taken aback by the harsh undertones slipped from such a kind looking man. His brow wrinkling, and then softening at the realization that it was merely yesterday that an already struggling soul had just lost his own partner, just as Dean had. 

Though the sun had beat down warmly on their backs moments ago, the clouds had crowded in the sky, and rain began to pour softly, become harsher by the second. " I'll pick you up first tonight, then. We'll do some...research. " By this, Dean meant he would sneak them both back to the scene of the crime, and begin to track the Vetala. 

Droplets collected on Castiel's old tan trenchcoat, and though he couldn't see it, he felt the rain on the backs of his hands, and he smelled it on the air. 

Dean took a few steps backwards, towards the Impala. He anxiously rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand, staring back at Castiel with a pained look on his face. He watched the man sit neatly on the bench, ankles crossed, clothes tossed lazily over him, like they were hanging there by a thread. His hair was mussed up, still, and he sat with one hand running through it. A grim smile played on his lips, and he seemed to be staring back at the false Agent, though anyone could tell that behind those dark glasses, he could not see. 

The taller man took a few steps back towards Castiel, pressing two fingers gently into his shoulder. 

" You, ah, wouldn't;t want to come back and hang around for a while, would you? " He asked awkwardly, completely blown away by the way this strange, angry little blind man left him practically speechless. 

" I thought you'd never ask. " Another smile spread across his face, this time, a true,smile that pulled gently on his lips, his brows crinkling slightly. Dean reciprocated with another smile and helped Castiel to his feet. 

It took him a moment to realize what exactly Castiel was attempting to do, as the man groped about with one arm, eventually linking his with Dean's. 

Cheeks flushing red, Dean was thankful Castiel could not see him in such a manner. He lead Castiel to the Impala, opening the door and helping him in. Before he could shut the passenger side door, Castiel spoke, softly and almost sweetly.

" You know, Agent Brown, I kind of like you. You;re almost okay. "

"Ahh, thanks, Mr. Nov- Castiel. " He corrected himself, still fumbling over the sudden kindness and playful compliment that this strange man had just given him.

After arriving back at Dean's hotel, and leading Castiel in, the men arm in arm, they simply sat for a little while, both in complete silence.


	4. Chapter 4

Minutes passed, the grime-covered clock that hung above their heads ticked slowly with each second that crept by. Green eyes speckled gently with gold stared intently across the table, and Castiel sat with a look of content on his face. Though inside, pieces of him were broken and shattered, and he longed to catch whomever took the life of his last sibling, Gabriel.

It was strange, Dean thought. That the man who sat before him could be so headstrong, when he too was broken.

They sat, in a mutual understanding of sadness and longing. Each grieving for a lost brother.

"Whatever you're hiding from me, Mr. Brown, you don't have to worry about it. I can't see, and I couldn't give a shit, really. I want you to find my brother's killer, though." Castiel let out a heavy breath, as if his troubles were bottled like air in his lungs, and if he sighed loud and hard enough, they would fly past his lips on the wing of a breath.

Dean, on the other hand had his problems in the very pit of his stomach; where they boiled and lurched, driving him insane as the days of hunting and pretending ate away at him.

"There's nothing-" He paused, unsure of how to word it.

"I'm not-." Sighing, he rolled his eyes towards Castiel. Who's hair shone ebony in the poor lighting on the motel.

"You can stay, Mr. Novak. But it's dangerous out there."

And in a single swift movement Castiel stood and inched towards Dean, lifting his trenchcoat to reveal a black belt. Dean was confused by the gesture, but somewhat please at the tiny glimpse he got of the man's well muscled back. The fire in his stomach twisted and turned, burning him inside out. It confused him, indeed. But it was somewhat pleasing.

Castiel placed his hand out, and though they had just met, Dean knew what Castiel wanted. Unsure of where exactly the blind man was going with this situation, Dean went ahead with it anyways. He placed his own hand in Castiel's and allowed him to lead it on a spot on the hip of his pants. Dean's face flushed red with embarrassment, but he soon realized what Cas was doing.

His hand hit the cold metal piece of a handgun. He let a smile play on his lips.

"Well-" He began, allowing the unsure feeling of fire in his stomach rage on.

But before he could finish, probably with a flirty smile and a wink that Castiel wouldn't notice, the door of the room burst open and a tall woman in all black stomped in, a devious smile on her face.

"Afternoon, boys..." she purred.

"I'm not...interrupting something, am I?"

"Son of a bitch..." Dean muttered, standing up and bracing himself for a fight. Seconds later Cas got the memo and stood too, shoulder to shoulder with Dean. Castiel raised his handgun and Dean leaned over to help him with his aim, pushing the gun a little to the left.

The woman had short blonde hair that bounced in time with her step. Taking long strides towards them with a smile on her face that Dean had only ever encountered in Hell.

"Pathetic, you two... where's the taller one, Dean?" she sneered. Cas let out a whisper of confusion, but dismissed the name Dean as a reference of some sort that he did not understand.

He wondered who this strange woman was talking about... the tall one? From where Deans voice was projected, it appeared to Cas that Dean was the tall one.

"What did you call him...Sam? Sammy? Ooh." Her smile widened from a sneer to a toothy grin.

"Sammy. Doesn't that strike a chord in braveman's little heart? " She let out a laugh and stepped forward again, her tall heels clicking along on the floor.

"Shut the fuck up. Don't you dare talk about Sammy, you vetala bitch." Dean growled, grip tightening on the handle of his gun. His index finger twitched slightly on the trigger as he watched the creature inch closer.

"Darling... a vetala? That's what you think I am? Adorable." She threw her hands in the air, in an almost sarcastic fashion.

Then in a cloud of thick black smoke she disappeared.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean lowered his gun and looked left, resting a hand on Castiels shoulder.

"You alright, buddy?"

Castiel coughed a little bit.

"Dean." he barely seemed phased by the outburst.

"Was Sam your...partner?"

"Sammy was my brother, Castiel. He's the one I lost."

"Oh." Was the only sound that escaped his otherwise pursed lips. He turned the safety on his gun and slid in back into his belt.

Dean wasn't sure what Cas was thinking. As a matter of fact- nobody was ever sure what was going on inside his mind. Dean pictured it to be a swirling abyss of black and blue, clouds of smoke, like that of a demons.

Dean pulled a slip of paper from his back pocket and read it over again.

"I've got a lead as to where our killer might be, but that... woman showing up raised whole new questions. I've got friends on the other side of the law, Castiel. Come on, lets go and find them." Dean said, reaching towards Castiel's sleeve.

He tugged gently and Cas reached out for Dean's arm. In a bout of awkward shuffling and "Oopses" and "Sorry's", they managed to get back into the Impala, both still dazed at what exactly had occurred just then.

Castiel was more confused than frightened, though. Usually he was one to dismiss curiosity when it arose, but for some reason, he felt the urge to learn more about the situation. He knew things didn't add up, but went along with Dean anyways. In his presence, Castiel felt strange, but safe, which is what mattered.

As the Impala rumbled down the highway, Castiel felt the smoothness of pavement turn slightly rocky.

"Where exactly are we headed?" He asked, a dash of curiosity slipping into the question to make it more sincere. Castiel really didn't care where they were going, but he felt the need to break the silence between them.

"Red Creek." Dean answered bluntly.

"I used to swim there as a child..." Dean spoke softly, his words trailing off. They seemed to fall from his lips and disintegrate in the air, pausing their conversation once more.

As the silence grew thicker, Dean began to think of how he might go about explaining the situation to his newfound partner.

He wracked his brains for the right words to say, gently parting his lips as if to speak, but shutting them quickly, deciding whatever he was going to say was not right. The man who sat beside him had no knowledge of the creatures and demons who slipped from their world to ours with such ease. He knew Dean as Agent Brown, the man with a gun and real badge, who took down serial killers and murderers alike with his intellectual prowess and years of training. What Cas had in mind was a character who was the good guy. The agent, the officer, the man who kept people safe from other people, with slightly different motives than the rest of us.

But he wasn't Agent Brown, he was Dean Winchester. And he fought a different breed of killer, one he hoped Cas might never find the truth about.

Dean coughed, and took his eyes from the road to look at the raven haired man beside him. Running his tongue along his lower lip, he allowed for a long look at Castiel, while slowing the car slightly.

He noticed things that he hasn't before. The shady black stubble that was patchily shaven, due to Castiel's inability to see. He noticed how smooth his hands were as he rested them comfortably on each of his knees. They were a child's hands, compared to Deans own. His were weathered and aching from hand to hand combat and punches angled in his opponents favour. They were coloured with scars and dotted with a few freckles that mirrored the constellations.

Castiels were smooth, with thin black hairs on an otherwise smooth tanned canvas of heavenly skin.

The car jerked sideways and pulled Dean from  
the moment, and knocked Castiel from his trancelike state.

"Shit! Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry about that." Dean muttered, glancing way from Castiel. He tightened his grip on the wheel and turned into a rocky driveway below a canopy of trees.

At the end of the drive, they pulled up beside a tiny log cabin that didn't seem as if it were in use at the time. Dean reminisced about parts of his childhood spent hunting in these woods.

"This is it. A family friend lives here. Garth. You'll like him, I think. He's...different."

"Aren't we all, Agent Brown?"

A sudden pang of guilt pulled in his stomach. It wasn't usually strange to be called by another name by the people he met and worked around. But with Castiel, it felt different. It felt wrong to lie, or rather, let Castiel believe it.

He looked towards Cas and began to speak.

"Listen, buddy, I haven't been all that--"

"Well look who showed up! If it isn't my favourite squirrely guy!"

Dean sighed.

"Hey Garth..." He shot Castiel a look out of habit, the same one he might give Sam when a half-sane friend of the family just stuck their head through the window of his car.

Dean swung his legs from the car and stepped out, rounding the front to help Castiel out. Leading him to a wooden chair, he patted his shoulder.

"I'll be right back, Cas." Dean muttered, scurrying after Garth into the tiny log cabin. Garth began tidying the place a bit while Dean took a seat on the old couch near the center of the room. He could barely remember sleeping restlessly here as a child. He didn't really want to remember.

"So, Dean..." Garth whispered with a small smile. The whole concept of hunting seemed to be a game to Garth, but Dean knew that he was quite good at his job, and very informational, despite the goofy attitude. Garth passed him a beer, and Dean gratefully accepted, pressing the bottle to his lips.

"Who's the hot potato in a trenchcoat you've left on my porch?" He asked, eyeing Dean with a smug grin from behind his beer.

Choking and spitting up the brown liquid Dean looked towards Garth with a wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression. He swallowed what was left of the beer in his throat and glared towards him.


	6. Chapter 6

"Garth!" Dean barked, wiping a bit of beer from his lip with a thumb, too shocked to say anything other than his name.

"Oh please, Dean. Relax. You don't have to hide it from me, Buddy. Your sexuality is meaningless to the hunting community. Of course, we all sort of...figured." He waved a hand dismissively in the air and downed the other half of his beer. Like Dean, and so many other hunters, he had a strong tolerance for alcohol, so it never bothered him.

Dean sat with a look of absolute terror and embarrassment plastered on his face.

"You think I'm fucking gay?!"

"No, I think you're fucking the blind guy." Garth threw back. The way he spoke was relaxed and comfortable, like he accused guys of being gay for a living.

Dean stood up, crossing his arms and leaning down to stare at Garth, not necessarily angry, but still in shock that someone he had known all his life, who had seen him bring home girl after girl, who had (no doubt) walked in on him several times, was accusing him of being gay.

"Garth. Seriously, dude. I'm not gay. That guy is just tagging along, with Sammy gone, I could use the backup I guess." He lied. Castiel knew nothing about hunting. Dean probably would have had better luck bringing a puppy along.

But it wasn't helping his case that he just "wanted" to bring this guy with him, so he kept that to himself. In reality, Cas had thought that Dean only complied to shut him up, but Dean was lonely.

He wanted nothing more than to have Sammy back, and if putting a handsome blind man in his spot patched the hole, then so be it.

"Let me get this straight... you brought a blind guy on a hunt...to help you?" Garth smirked, and Dean shot him a glance.

"Listen, Garth." He began, before being interrupted by Castiel slowly stepping into the room. Dean figured he has just felt his way around to the door and made his way in, though he felt guilty for leaving him out there with no help.

"You guys are really loud, you know." Castiel spoke, and Deans stomach dropped.

He had heard every word of their conversation.


	7. Chapter 7

In a state of mutual awkwardness, Dean stood and gently grabbed Castiel's arm, crinkling the tan trenchcoat between callused hands. 

" Thanks, Garth. " Dean muttered, grabbing a fairly thick file from the table, and downing his drink.

He cringed on the inside. His new companion had heard everything that Garth had said. Calling him gay, telling him that everyone had already guessed he was, and the accusation that they were...involved.

Feeling like he was going to retch, Dean took the information in one hand and friend in the other and made his way back to the impala, still a little phased by the other hunters words.

As they made their way out to the impala for a second time that day, Castiel sighed internally.

More fucking silence.

As someone without sight, Castiel relied on the sounds and voices that surrounded his daily life. In these he found much comfort. They protected him from the darkness that seeped from sightlessness.

Again, they took their places in the impala and Dean hesitated to start the engine. Cas was confused, until he heard the slight ruffle of paper, and Dean's callused hands running over smooth sheets.

" Fuck. " Dean muttered coldly, through tightly clenched teeth. In a shuffle of jingling keys and Dean's hand slapping the wheel, the impala sped off.

Remembering the way he had been tossed when turning in the driveway of Garth's home, Castiel could tell they were headed the opposite way.

" We're headed to a barn out on the highway. I'm going to get out when we get there. I want you to lay the seat back and keep hold of that gun. Got that? " He asked, voice clear and precise.

Castiel nodded, removing the gun from his pants and resting it beside him.

Dean still felt awkward, Cas hadn't brought up what he had heard, and the green eyed man was ever so thankful.

In moments the speeding impala was pulling into the gravel driveway, a mixture of dirt and rock being sent into the air by tires that barely hugged the road.

Harsh and yearning to have the blood of a supernatural being spill through his fingers once more, Dean made his way to the barn. His coat collar was turned up against the brisk pre-autumn winds, and his boots crunched unevenly in the gravel.

Distant and distraught, he hadn't been prepared for what would greet him next on the other side of the hulking barn door. A quick nervous glance back to Castiel was the last half-good thing those green eyes saw before becoming stricken with horror.

He had greeted death like an old friend, he had literally been to hell and back, but Dean was extremely unprepared for the sight that was separated from him through a set of steel doors. A drumming heart, salt rounds loaded into a sawed off shotgun, and a precious amulet were all placed on his person somewhere, but they served as little faith nor protection from Dean's next obstacle.

Though obstacle was the understatement of the year.

It was more like...

" Sammy. "

Dean's usually gruff voice cracked at the sight of his baby brother slumped over in a wooden chair, his massive feet and hands shackled tightly, blood pouring over the restraints and trickling, drying on his long, slender fingers.

Holding up his gun to any imaginary sound, Dean stalked over to where Sam was. His body had blocked the view of the tall blonde woman from the hotel. He couldn't put two and two together. Sammy was hurt.

Dean tucked away his gun for a moment and crouched below Sam, gently placing a hand on either side of his blood stained face. His stubble had grown out and his hair was lanky and dirty. He had been here a while. A whimper escaped Dean's lips.

Other than that, Dean was grief-stricken and speechless.

But Sam certainly wasn't.

His head popped up, no life flying back into the once soft, very admirable, kind eyes that Sam Winchester had sported humbly. Instead, they were a glassy black. Black, and unbelievable.

"What's the matter, brother mine?" Sam's voice echoed in all corners of the barn. It was raspy and sent a chill up his brothers spine.

"Don't like what you see, Deano? This isn't what you wanted? For me to be... happy?" Sam leaned towards the elder Winchester, and with two hands that were suddenly free, cupped his face violently.

Untrimmed nails dug deep into Dean's face, but that earned no response. Dean didn't cringe or break eye contact with his brother.

The pain in his soul was taking up all of his energy, and he just stared wistfully at the baby brother he had loved all his life. It was a pain that he had never felt before. Worse than what he had endured in hell.

It seemed to grab him hungrily and pull him down into an abyss of despair.

" Sammy. " He uttered once more, his voice stolen and ringing with grief.

" Sam, what happened? " A choking sound followed the sentence, and Sam let out a deep, gruff laugh that rattled the barn.

" What happened? " He chuckled, shaking his head so strands would fall back into place.

" I've become a whole new breed, Deano. Fucking super-demons on steroids. I had gone out on a hunting trip by myself, baby, and when I found Molly, here- " He kicked at the bare leg of the spunky blonde who ceased breathing.

" I couldn't resist. It's an eat or be eaten world, boy, and I intend to feast to my hearts content. "

It was barely noticeable, and if Dean had not known Sammy so well, or rather, the old Sammy, he would not have noticed. The glassy light in his black eyes seemed to turn milky, and he almost seemed...sad.

" I thought 'What's the point in all of this? We live this life expecting death every day.' And you seem to be dead set on the side of the angels, but Dean, there's no point. We can't stop this. If you can't beat em, " he laughed ironically.

" join em."

A sputtering cough of blood came from his lips after a parting final words. Dean looked down to see the pale face of the young woman who was presumed dead; smiling.

A long silver blade had made an entrance in Sam's back, just barely peeking out of his stomach. 

" It's his exes. " she muttered, swinging a silver blade that Dean recognized as the demon Ruby's, before finally collapsing to the floor and taking her last breath. The blade was coated with the warm red, mistakenly human crimson liquid that belonged to Sam.

Dean watched the life leave his brothers eyes. From the soulless black eyes he saw the pair growing and playing and hunting together side by side. He saw Dean protecting Sammy from the back of John's hand. From hell. From everything that dared to cross their path.

This was one thing he couldn't protect his baby brother from. Himself.


	8. chapter 8

He wasn't sure how it happened, but he made his way back out to the impala, the image of Sam's gruesome death burned permanently into his mind.

Tapping her hood as he approached, Dean spoke in an extremely monotone and airy voice.

" It's me, Castiel. " The words barely escaped his lips. Flashes of the blood pools and Sam's dark eyes pulled him from reality momentarily. He wondered for a second if he would be okay to drive, though staying there was not an option. Starting the impala without even glancing at the man beside him, Dean drove slowly back to the motel.

" I'll drive you home in a minute if-" Dean began, but Castiel cut him off, his low voice overpowering Dean's, which was barely a whisper at the moment. 

" I can stay a while if you'd like. You're not okay, Agent. I may be blind but I can tell, believe me. People tend to speak a little too much to those who cannot see them, it's something I've noticed. And you have barely spoken to me since we left. Now, you don't have to say a word, if you don't want. There's something in the air about you, though. If you dont want to be alone, then come around this way and we'll go inside. "

Castiel didn't feel right leaving him, the agent's condition was clearly worsening by the minute. He spoke so softly that if Castiel's hearing was not enhanced due to his inability to see, he might not have picked it up. So he spoke, his tone low and gruff, but he attmepted to sound soothing, for the sake of the clearly shaken man.

He heard the clicking of the car door, and Dean gently took him by the arm in quick response. A small sigh of relief escaped his lips as the two made their way into the motel room.

Castiel thought back to what the agent's friend had said, running over a few words in his mind from the conversation, when a name popped into his head. Dean.

He had heard that name once before, coming from the lips of the woman who approached them earlier in the motel.

Cas took his seat on the closest bed, while Dean shucked off his coat and removed an old plaid button-up. He sat across from Castiel and rubbed his face, letting out an exhausted sigh.

Dean glanced down at the extra bed where the raven-haired man sat. He remembered now, he had ordered a room with two queens, as he always had done. One for him, and one for his brother. It made him sad, realizing that he would no longer wake to Sam's incessant munching on what Dean often labeled as Rabbit Food. 

" If you'd get up and exercise with me, you might not be so tired through the day. Dean. " Sam would say, his grin foolish and teasing. Dean thought back to reality again, and spoke gently to Castiel. 

" There's two beds, if you're staying the night, you can have the one you're sitting on now. I'm going to have a shower, I'll be out soon. "

There was still something off about him, Castiel thought. But he agreed and pulled off his trench coat, laying it evenly across the foot of the twin bed. He pulled off his dark sunglasses and tucked them in one of the pockets.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, Dean yanked the shirt over his head and undid his belt in a few swift movements. Dropping his clothes in a lazy heap, he blasted the hot water and stepped in.

Beads of water trailed themselves down his face, catching on the rough stubble that had formed over time. Taking his time, Dean allowed himself to think about what exactly had occurred today. He barely believed it. It was all surreal. Hot water beat down on him, soothing aching muscles and forming droplets which mirrored the freckles that dotted his body.

His skin held a glow that was seemingly a light, permanent tan, from years of being out working on the impala in the hot sun. His golden skin was an imperfect canvas spattered so naturally with freckles. They covered his face and spread across a pair of broad shoulders, trickling sparingly down his spine and stopping at his lower back.

Stepping out, he dried himself quickly. The old sweatpants he had out to wear for bed stuck to damp skin when he tried to pull them on. One part wouldn't pull off of his leg, and missing a spot of water on his hip caused the grey material to darken and stick.

Upon reaching his bed, he pulled out his phone and texted Garth.

Find that barn you sent me to and go inside. You'll know what to do when you get there.

Garth really was the last person he would ask to complete the task of a hunter's funeral, but who else could he ask? Bobby? Ellen? His father? Sam?

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

He looked over to Castiel, who sat quietly, with his hands placed in his cross legged lap, staring intently at the wall, his head cocked to the side in quiet confusion.

" Who's Dean? " He asked in a kind voice, as if he were merely asking this question casually.

" It's my name, Castiel. I'm Dean Winchester. " There was no sarcasm, and Castiel said nothing more. He pondered how he had not expected this outcome after having two people address him as such.

A minute of listening to the quiet rustle of sheets and Castiel had known that Dean didn't feel up to saying any more. He would ask in the morning. Or perhaps the next day, for nobody had acknowledged him as this man had, Castiel didn't want to think of upsetting him.

When he was certain that Dean was asleep, he listened to the constant ticking of the old motel clock and tried the man's name on his lips. 

" Dean. " 

It was spoken softly, but it filled Castiel with something that he could not explain. He knew one minuscule thing about the curious man who lay in the bed merely a few feet next to him.


	9. Chapter 9

The sun tried to filter through thick clouds, bringing a gloomy light into the room, Castiel could feel it. He opened the door and a burst of thick, damp air greeted him unkindly. Shutting the door and locking it again, he felt his way to a coffee maker and groped about until eventually, he had it figured out, and the smell of hot coffee filled the room.

It was early fall, and it became colder each night, so having two bodies in the room, living, breathing and creating heat was definitely a bonus. Castiel could feel the warmth and he breathed it in between sips of black coffee, tainted with four generous spoonfuls of sugar. He savored each ridiculously sweet sip gently, as he sat in long boxer shorts and a thin white undershirt.

What he could not see, was Dean. He was balled in the old motel duvet, eyes bloodshot and head swimming from the whiskey he had taken to sucking down throughout the night. Whatever filled the silver flask he carried was not near enough alcohol to numb the buzzing in his head.

Sam Winchester was dead, and in his mind, he cried out through all existence that this was it. This was hell, he was certain. Not being strung up like some animal carcass in a pit filled with utter despair; this was Dean Winchester's personal hell.

Images and flashbacks tainted his memory and they flashed between blinks as he stared blankly at the wall opposite Castiel.

Though he said nothing, he honestly appreciated the presence of another human. No noise was made between the two, aside from the occasional quiet sniffle or barely audible whimper that Dean, with his brute appearance and gruff attitude, prayed Castiel would not hear.

But alas, he did, and Castiel eventually caught on to Dean's consciousness, and padded over to the side of the bed, leaning in carefully.

" Agent. Do you want a coffee?"

Dean sniffed again, and then spoke.

" Yeah. " His voice was raspy and strained, and through a single word, Castiel could smell the whiskey on his breath. It radiated sickly from pink parted lips. Sudden realizations snapped together in his mind, but many pieces of this particular puzzle were still missing. Walking a few steps, he fumbled around and eventually poured another mug of motel coffee. It wasn't the best, but it was thick and dark, and required little sugar to sweeten the mix. The rich aroma brought Dean out of his fog for a moment, and he added quickly that he'd like two sugars.

Castiel complied and tore open two packets, dumping them in. He was careful to place them along the side so he was certain the sugar would not be dumped on the counter. Pouring two creamers and following the same pattern, he felt and placed the steaming cup on the table that separated the two beds.

Small sips and slurps could be heard, but other than that, silence. Castiel sat on the edge of Dean's bed, and Dean sat propped up with pillows, still tangled helplessly in his duvet.

" Castiel Novak, " Dean said quietly, his voice small. Castiel found his tones unusual.

" I haven't been all that honest with you, man. " He attempted to sound casual.

" I'm no agent, well, not really. You see, there are things out there that you guys, " He stopped, straining again.

"--that we need to be protected from. "

Castiel breathed slowly, he had heard this speech from so many officials. Cops, detectives, worried neighbours. He figured it would be the same shitty sob story that everyone else had given him. There are bad people out there, Cas, and we'll find who did this. Cas felt like screaming. For god's sakes, he knew. He was aware of the good and the bad and the homicidal. He prayed that Dean would not take him for someone who didn't know these things. But what Dean said next surpised him.

" But not people, Castiel. Don't I know there are bad people out there, but there are things that are much worse than your average joe. " Adding the last bit mockingly, bits of coffee spurted from his lips.

" It's the creatures that blend into normal life, the creepy crawlies, the ghosts, the monsters you dreamed of as a child. They're all real, Castiel. And you might not believe it, but I'm one of the goddamned assholes who got stuck with the job where I've got to kill the bastards. "

His breaths were no longer pained and steady, but rapid and he felt as though he were choking on air.

{{A/N;; okay, so here's my first filler chapter, really, which would explain why it's so short! I try and keep each chapter at about a thousand words, but dude, writing is hard. so I hope you're all enjoying the wonderful mess I've made. comment if you love me. 


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel sat on the side of Dean's bed, warily placing a hand on his shoulder. It surprised him; where he expected a soft cotton tee, he felt the muscled shoulder that was cold and sheeted with a thin layer of icey perspiration. Castiel's cheeks flushed at the thought of Dean simply not wearing a shirt around him. He thought for a moment, and decided that there was really no reason that it would make a difference if Dean had a shirt on or not, Cas wouldn't be able to see him. Would it be worse if he could? Strange questions filtered through his mind as fingertips buzzed at the cool touch.

" Dean. It's okay. " Castiel hummed, running thin fingers over a spot on his shoulder where parts of bone jutted up, creating ridges in his skin that Castiel yearned to trace and memorize.

It was a sudden thing, this type of falling, but Dean gave off such an air to him that Castiel felt helpless. Even so, Dean jerked away from the fiery touch.

" Castiel. What the hell. " He grumbled, inching away. Though his words were harsh, his tone was surprisingly not.

Castiel pulled his hand back with an unmoving expression, but he left it, frozen in the air as Dean rejected the comfort he had offered.

Dean felt the heat rise in his face and from his toes, trailing flames throughout his body. Cas shifted. They faced each other now, almost directly, with Cas facing a little left, for he couldn't pinpoint Dean's exact location.

" Cas..." Dean murmured, and Castiel became confused. His advance had been rejected, but Dean's tones, he could tell, spoke volumes. Every cell in his body screamed to move closer, but Castiel strained a pathetic attempt to hold back.

They both knew, neither one was dumb enough to miss it.

And then suddenly, unexpectedly, like waves reddened lips crashed together, pulling them into their own separate, momentary paradise. Fingers slid into hair and limbs slowly, wildly tangled together as they leaned into kisses.

Castiel set himself free, mapping kisses up and down every inch of Dean's neck, and his taut-muscled shoulders. Dean tasted like whiskey, and Cas; sweet black coffee. The mix was dizzying, it was a potent smell that radiated between the two.

Dean's kisses were soft, and hesitant. Ironically, in the moments where happiness buzzed through him at the mere touch of Castiel's slender fingers, Dean wouldn't believe it. It confused him to no end, but he pressed and pulled closer to Castiel, confiding in his porcelain skin.

Heads swimming with lust, they felt the mirrored tension caught up in clothes that suffocated skin, and figured it best to remove it through a series of nips and low, breathy moans.

Dean's freckle painted hands snaked up Castiel's thin white shirt, locking them on his shoulders and lifting at the elbows, removing the layer that separated them.

Confirming where exactly Dean was placed on the bed, Castiel crawled forwards, grabbing his wrists with gentle persuasion. He pushed and Dean leaned back. His head by a pillow, he stared up at the ceiling blankly. Straddled and set down, his eyes went in and out of focus, his heart raced uncontrollably.

He let his hands loosen at Dean's wrists. Slowly they crept up his arms and paused for a moment to tangle at his neck, leaving trails of open-mouthed kisses from his lips down to his throat, where he stopped shifting, but fixated on the particular groove in his neck that made Dean's toes curl.

His hands kept moving though, carefully kneading, slipping his fingers in the loose waistband of the track pants Dean wore. He had a hand on each hip and was tugging slowly, with gentle ease.

Dean pulsed beneath him, reciprocated with every move Cas made, up until Cas began to tug at the pants.

" Stop, " he pleaded breathlessly. His voice would have driven Cas crazy, had it not contained a certain hitch that he recognized all too well. Pulling his hands away and placing them on Dean's cheeks, Cas's eyebrows bent in gentle confusion.

A warm wet greeted Castiel's fingertips. Tears.

Underneath him, Dean's chest heaved and Cas slipped his hand around to the back of Dean's neck, loosening the death grip his thighs had on Dean's waist. He leaned his face closer, so their foreheads rested upon one another. He was about to ask what had made Dean stop, but was interrupted.

" Sam's dead, Cas. He's gone, baby. He was in the barn, the chair, that girl--"

What he spoke of made little to no sense to Cas, but he nodded as if he knew. Dean choked, and Cas kissed his cheek gently.

" God damn I'd love to keep going, baby, but he's gone. " Dean choked, and Cas knew. He knew the pain, but as he had done with every other damned problem in his life, he pushed it down. He had mourned, but he was over with it. Dean obviously held Sam close to him, and Cas had never known that, but god, did he ever know that it would have been a hell of a lot easier to have someone coddle him through it.

" Shhh, " Cas soothed.

" Do you want me to go, because--"

Dean's response was a quick tug at Castiel's middle, bringing him down upon his chest, as the two clutched each other closely.

The picture was odd, really, two tall men, one's feet almost dangling of the bed, the other resting along the length of his body. In unison they let out perfect breaths, and without realizing, it had begun to rain.

Between the soft patter of rain on their motel windows, the smell of the whiskey and coffee, and the soft, mirrored breaths, Castiel was lulled back to sleep in the crook of Dean's neck.

And with the raven haired man asleep, for the first time in so long, Dean let himself cry.


	11. Chapter 11

It was the almost-sex that put Cas at ease, and then eventually into slumber. It left him feeling weightless and euphoric, his whole mind and body at rest. They layed there for hours, Cas, was still not over what had happened (or rather, almost happened) that morning. He cuddled into Dean, shifting so one leg draped across both of Dean's, and with an arched back, he could mumble unconsciously into his neck.

Dean, after releasing all emotion about what had happened in that barn, practiced the whole explanation speech to a sleeping Castiel, to prepare to give it to a conscious one.

They had expected it to be awkward, when both were awake; it was anything but. It was peaceful and sweet, with Castiel's face buried in the crook of Dean's neck, the Winchester boy spilled his guts. Soon, Castiel's mind held a secret drawer for the information Dean had spoken in his ear. Everything Dean knew, Cas had been told.

There was something about a man who could not see that broke down walls in Dean's mind, and he had no idea why, but he wanted to share with him. After the strange occurance that included several thousand heated kisses and the realization that Dean was getting hot and bothered over some stranger, Dean became confused. It wasn't necessarily the fact that he was putty in a stranger's hands, but the fact that the stranger was a guy. With a dick. And stubble. Both of which drove Dean absolutely crazy.

Cas on the other hand was fairly contempt with his sexuality, if he felt a strong bond with someone, no matter what, he might consider sexual relations with them. He never thought himself gay, or bi, or pansexual, he was just...Cas. Unlike Dean, who told himself day in and day out for that his entire life, he was straight as a pole.

There was a strange air when they met, it was casual at first, just an agent asking questions to a shaken young man. But when Castiel requested he be brought along with Dean, something sparked. Maybe it was losing Sam that pulled him towards Cas, but the hunter, through his fog of confusion thought back, to when he thought that women were totally his thing, and had been for his entire life. But from the moment the man with the dark sunglasses and messy hair followed him back to the impala; like a lost puppy, he concluded that he was most definitely cas-sexual.

Returning from his cloud of thought, Dean propped himself up and let Cas cuddle closer.

" So now you know it all, I guess. " He muttered quietly, the first words spoken since he had torn open his brain and given Castiel a private tour of the inner-workings of his mind.

" I'm glad, " Cas said, and paused a little, his lips parted in gentle thought as he contemplated what he should say next.

He had sort of figured that there was more to life than what the average person saw. The things he had feared most as a child had brought him to the beginning of something new.

" I am glad that there are people like you keeping us safe. "

Dean let out a breath, a sigh of content, when those words spilled from Castiel's lips. They brought happiness to him, and filled him with a friendly warmth that spread to his cheeks.

He thought Cas very beautiful, like a porcelain doll. In his bed-headed, sleepy state, Dean couldn't think of a word to say. He felt pity for him, not being able to see, but he also admired Cas for his strong-hearted attitude.

It was a true pity that Castiel could not see his partner in the same drunken-sleepy tones brought on by whiskey and lack of sleep. His green eyes still kept their luster, and every hair on his head appeared to be out of place, courtesy of Castiel's slender fingers, when they reached out and tugged gently.

He did not want to pity Castiel, that is not what the blue eyed man would want. But Dean couldn't help feeling sad that Cas wouldn't be able to see him as Dean had seen Cas--

Almost glowing with pleasure as each traded kisses, messy, disheveled hair and pale skin against Dean's, dotted with tiny brown speckles, too-tight boxers that hugged hips, soft grey sweatpants that slipped and tugged with the synchronized moves.

He pitied that he could not look into his eyes and see a mirrored, lusting look.

But where Castiel would see from, held two glassy orbs of blue, patterned so naturally with white, then blue and black. In the blue of his eyes, under the slight milky film that Castiel's blindness brought, held the very universe and all of its inhabitants. In it were flecks of grey and green that illuminated them, even through a cold, blank stare that seemed to be plastered to his face permanently.

In slow moments of mutual understanding, Dean and Cas became familiar with the fact that they each wanted something very similar from the other.


	12. Chapter 12

The days had passed with the pace that a slug might travel at.

Probably slower.

They were filled with whiskey nights and black coffee mornings, each day another bill tacked on for their room, which the hunter somehow payed for, along with Chinese takeout. Each day was the same, sleepy kisses in the mornings mixed with warm showers the two would take, both agreeably stating that it was saving water.

Dean took this time to bask at the mere sight of Cas, in a plush blue bathrobe with his hair mussed the wrong ,way.

" Come back to bed, baby. " He would coo, tempting the man who blindly shuffled around, tails of his robe flowing behind him. Dean would grab him by the robe's ties and pull him back, butt first into make out sessions of intense proportions.

Neither of them mentioned that despite the immense cuddling, there was nothing more that they had done. Until Dean, one day, supposedly still mopey from grieving, decided it was an appropriate time to climb into bed beside a sleeping Cas and kiss him until he woke, with a love-drunken smile on his face.

There was touching, yes, but Dean's fingers were light and gentle, pricking at the small of Cas's back as he placed a knee on either side of his hips. On the other hand, Cas held a fiery touch that tensed his muscles and focused his mind.

On the seventh day, Cas took Dean's hand in his own and pressed his lips together. From the side of the bed, he rested a knee on the edge.

" Dean, we can't stay here forever. " To which Dean replied with a groan of discontent.

Cas let his brow furrow, face contorting into a soft, but slightly annoyed shape.

" Dean. " More groaning.

Castiel clambered into the bed, feeling down Dean's back with nimble fingers. He slid under the covers and after tracing a finger down, he placed kisses down the slight ridge in his back, then around his hip, where he proceeded to take a nip at the skin. This earned a surprised yelp from Dean, who was entranced in the kissing and had not expected that.

Popping his head up from the sheets with a small grin, he felt up to find Dean's face, taking it gently between two fingers and leaning, so their foreheads touched.

" We. Cannot. Stay. Here. Forever. " he muttered playfully, but his words were all true.

" I know, " Dean replied, his voice soft and his eyes even softer, staring hopelessly, examining every inch of Castiel's face.

In his tone was a certain thick sadness that tugged at the strings of Castiel's heart.

" But where the hell are we going to go? "

" I don't know...somewhere else. You feel like...killing something? "

The words were foreign on his tongue, even thinking of the world unknown to Castiel brought him great confusion, but Dean nodded with a quiet "yes".


	13. Chapter 13

Their days consisted of Dean clicking away on his laptop, while Castiel listened to Dean's choice of music.

An agreement had been set by Dean, for Cas. If Castiel agreed to quit doing "that goddamned thing" and distracting him from his research, he might consider bringing him along on the hunt.

Cas sprawled himself out on the bed, his head lolling off the side so he could hear the music (and be closer to Dean, of course). Once in a while he would cunningly, but lazily attempt to grab at Dean's sides or thighs, only to have his hands swatted away.

" Cas. " Dean would say sternly, but there was no doubt of a smile that Cas could hear as Dean spoke. Then in a fit of boredom and cloud of thought, Castiel came to realize something, thinking back to their agreement.

" I don't understand why you would doubt my ability to protect myself, Dean. "

There was a small hint of playfulness in his tone. It was almost...sarcastic, which earned a teasing scoff from Dean, who still ticked at his laptop, screen illuminating his face. He searched local news for something simple, a ghost or a vamp would have done him fine. He read on to a local news article, obviously a ghost that haunted a local playground.

Fucking creep. Dean thought, and continued on in his own little world of planning and thinking until Castiel spoke from the bed behind him.

" You should show me more respect. "

Dean tossed back his head in a laugh, eyes squinting and mouth widening in full-lipped smile. Castiel, had he been able to see, would have thought him absolutely beautiful.

" You want fucking respect, bitch? " He shot back teasingly.

" Yeah, jerk! " Castiel laughed, maybe a little too loudly.

Finally, the hunter pulled away from his laptop and leaped at the bed, covering Cas in a fit of deep-bellied laughs and falling limbs. Waggling his fingers in Castiel's armpits, he was tickled until his face became red and Dean tired to a stop. Sliding off of Cas, Dean grabbed his laptop and sat back on the bed.

" There's a spirit in one of the local parks. " He spoke after the two had finished wiping away tears from the incident that had occurred.

" It should be fairly simple, but stick close to me, okay? Don't want you getting-"

" Deaaaan. " Cas groaned.

Dean smiled to himself, though the topic wasn't exactly something he wanted to argue, he treasured this moment of playful, snarky banter between the two. He realized there hadn't been much talking since the day they piled into the dingy motel, with their goddamned sadness and their goddamned moping.

This was a true bout of laughter that the two had shared so intimately, it gave Dean butterflies. He hadn't enjoyed such playful company since...

Sam.

And with the sudden memory, Dean became sober and his face seemed to harden. Cas's coffee lips and his sweet pale skin no longer tempted him with tastes,and happiness, then Dean grew sad.

It was like an instinct, like Castiel could smell Dean's sad. As if he were some fucking depression bloodhound. He took the hunter and clutched at his back, pulling every molecule in his body closer and closer. Enveloping him in a hug that soothed. Dean's hand snuck into the fleecy blue robe and tangled at Cas's back. Castiel didn't care that Dean had sporadic moments of mopeyness, because he too felt the same, when a soft yellow bird would flit outside the window, reminding him of Gabriel in some strange, metaphoric way that only be might comprehend.

It was all fine, like when someone might roll a spool of twine back up, neat and tidy and tucked in a hug that screamed safe. They would embrace and erase each burning, painful memory that caused its victim to writhe and shake and grip the other with such a tense fright that whoever was being grabbed at felt just as horrified. As if the fear transferred through, in kisses or rough touches. Each knew the other's pair of fears. The death of the sibling they held so near and dear, and losing the vice who brought pleasure and pain, and hugs that suffocated. Suffocated until the feeling was just a lightheaded thought.

When Dean took Castiel's hand for the first time, not just his arm, he squeezed and with the other hand, passed him a t shirt and pair of jeans. Guiltily, hungrily, he watched as they were slipped over even chiseled limbs,

Cas smelled like black coffee, he always did. Dean breathed it in and let it swirl in his head before taking the now "properly dressed for a hunt" Castiel by the hand, and leading him to the Impala. He felt guilty leaving her out in the lot this whole time. But as a father might console his child, he promised her kindly that a good wash would mend fences, but Daddy had been taking some time to sort shit out. Dean's barely audible mumblings earned a laugh from Cas, who sat inside the vehicle, window half rolled down.

" It's cute, honestly. " beamed Cas, stifling another laugh.

" Oh shut it, you arrogant fuck. " Dean tossed over his shoulder; before making his way into the drivers seat.

Upon their arrival at the park, Dean talked Castiel through the plan, and after an argument lead by Dean, about why Castiel shouldn't be "live bait" Dean eventually gave in.

Castiel was simply made to sit on the bench, attract what Dean thought to be a spirit, and trust that Dean could find the thing and rush Cas out, all in a short period of time.

Everything went smoothly, Dean was professional about it and Cas was evidently turned on, just a bit, by Dean "in the workplace". The bones were torched, and Cas when got to get a whiff of rotten, dried human remains, while Dean took his turn to laugh at Cas.

Back in the impala, with something heavy-metal droning in the background, Dean watched the stars, as Castiel savored their moment with every fibre of his being.


	14. Chapter 14

Cas wanted Dean to hunt, for the sake of his mental state, and to take his mind off the deep pit in his stomach. On the other hand, Dean saw each and every hunt as an opportunity to lose Cas, so he protested each time with petty excuses. I'm not feeling up to it, Cas. Didn't you say you wanted a burger? Let's get a burger. Or the latest-- there are no cases in this area, Cas. I can't hunt nothing. Both of which he knew were downright lies, Cas rarely ate, and he could tell by Dean's slight shaky tone that the second excuse was as it proved to be; an excuse. 

Dean became weary and tired, most of the time. He wanted to lay, still and quiet with Cas for hours on end, both swimming and drowning in their own private world of thoughts. Never had he been in a relationship like this, where there time consisted of long and easy travels to and from a different motel every week. It was like living with Sammy, he felt. But he felt differently for Cas, obviously. 

This had become the longest he had been involved with someone. He felt wrong to say they were boyfriends, but lovers wasn't it either. Sure they had fucked, but lovers felt too...casual. Boyfriends felt like commitment, and Dean, now on the receiving end of what he called the "lone wolf treatment", felt Cas to be a Northern wind, blowing in without a care, messing with Dean's mind and charming the pants off of him. 

He found himself craving Castiel's hands, and his warm, soft lips upon his skin when he went to sleep, and there to greet him when he woke. Dean became domestic, and their life was simple. Castiel did not subject him to any labels, and Dean was fine with that. Cas was eccentric, to say the least, and Dean was old fashioned, but they mixed together like water and food colouring, taking two simple things and creating one spectacle that the world might marvel at. Their fondness for eachother grew with every waking minute, and as Castiel often thought, even in his sleep. 

They both still drank, Dean; whiskey, and Castiel; his coffee. Both preferred them dark. 

Castiel's lips had never touched the flask, nor the bottle that Dean hid in the trunk of the impala, next to his sawed-off shotgun and his salt rounds. Until one night, when Dean had poured some in his coffee, and Castiel begged for the bottle. 

In a drunken haze the two sat on a motel carpet, they had forgotten where they were. Cigarette butts had stained the carpet with black, chalky burns, and dribbles of alcohol had stained two of Dean's white tshirts, one that he wore, and the other, draped over Castiel's frame. The two sat in a giggly, bubbly state, leaning on the other for support, and finding none. 

" I made a 'pointment, for the..." Castiel began, his voice slurred and his glassy eyes were even milkier than before. 

"...the eye-guy. " he jabbed two fingers at his own eyes, thankfully closing them before the tips could reach. 

" Thedocterrrr? " Dean spoke back, his usually deep voice tuned strangely. 

" Thatsit! " Cas slurred.

"Are they gunna give ya new eyesss? " Dean dragged his wors, which earned a giggle from Cas. 

" I think sssso. " Cas mocked Dean's speech patterns. 

 

"Then... you'll be able to-- to see? Me? " Dean's voice was like that of a child's, almost. Though intoxicated, very excited, obviously pleased.

" Yeah. The guy said he could fisc it with, like, needleses and drugsss. " 

" Woah. "

" Yeah. "


End file.
